


Minor Adjustments

by secretagentfan



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:56:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretagentfan/pseuds/secretagentfan
Summary: Reunion came. Rituals, coffee, and late night walks.Written for RestructuralCommittee Valentine's day kiss contest. Woo!





	Minor Adjustments

       Shion’s snoring at the kitchen table. He’s slouched over, hair pressed into his cheek pressed into a pile of papers. Nezumi pulls up a chair next to him.

       “Shion, wake up.”

      Their apartment is the kind of quiet only found in in the former North Block, air filled with the sound of wind and dirt. It didn’t compare to the echoing silence of the underground room, where Nezumi’s voice would really have resounded—but Nezumi’s casual call gets the job done well enough.

      The snoozing male in question makes a sound somewhere between a yawn and a grunt. Long bangs cover his eyes. Nezumi snorts and presses his lips against the crown of his head.

       “Get a haircut,” he mumbles. “Shion.”

      Shion’s eyes open. His whole face seems to scrunch together as he raises his head from the table, glancing around.

       “You were sleep-walking again,” Nezumi explains.

       “No.” Shion’s reply is instant. “I was…doing something.”

       “Oh, were you now?” Nezumi drawls, drawing out the question as long as possible.

       “Yes I was,” Shion’s reply is clipped, but it catches on a yawn and lacks any of the intended assertiveness. Nezumi laughs. Shion looks at him for a long moment, like he can’t make up his mind whether to argue with him or not. Nezumi can’t say he minds the conflict—it’s certainly exciting.

       “Can we kiss?” he asks.

      A nod, and then Shion’s lips are on his, warm and insistent. Kissing Shion is all-consuming, filling his entire body with a humiliating urgency Nezumi was certain he had locked away in adolescence. Shion doesn’t care. Shion kisses him hard and gentle until Nezumi forgets he’s ever locked away anything at all.

       “Okay,” Shion begins. His eyes are still half-lidded. Nezumi crosses his arms, waiting. “Inform me. What _was_ I doing?”

       “Sleeping.” Nezumi repeats. “Then walking. Probably tried to incorporate some writing in there but I hid your pen before we sacked out.”

      Shion’s hands go to his face as he takes a deep breath in. A heavy sigh passes through his lips. His shoulders hardly raise—he’s as relaxed as he is exhausted, Nezumi realizes.

       “It didn’t feel like it, this time.” He mumbles, fingers tangling in the base of Nezumi’s undershirt as he struggles to find words. He rubs the fabric of between his fingers without realizing, and Nezumi finds himself stupidly touched by the motion.

       “I’m sorry, Nezumi. Did I wake you?”

       “It’s fine. Come back to bed.”

      Shion nods, tilting his head like he’s trying to get rid of a crick in his neck.

       “Sore?”

       “Mm.”

      Nezumi runs two fingertips along the edge of Shion’s throat before gently pressing the soft skin between his neck and shoulder. Shion relaxes into the half-hearted massage, leaning into Nezumi’s stomach. Nezumi wraps both arms around him, rubbing his shoulders properly. He’s still sitting in the chair, and Nezumi’s standing to his side, but the position doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Shion’s a warm weight against him, and Nezumi doesn’t say anything at all. 

* * *

  

      Being spooned by Nezumi is a surprisingly tricky experience.  Even when their legs are tangled, and Nezumi’s light breathing puffs against Shion’s throat as he sleeps—Nezumi drifts toward motion. His fingers move first, clutching and curling, sometimes with a light grip, sometimes a little more forcefully. They don’t pinch or mark, only grasp blindly at the blankets, Shion’s arm, chest, or shirt. Catching Nezumi’s hand and rubbing it with his thumb is enough to still the motion for a bit, but that’s a temporary solution at best.  Soon his legs will start shifting, jerking against Shion’s.

      That’s always how it starts. Harmless, predictable motions. But Shion knows all too well what Nezumi’s twitching can develop into. He may have tolerated getting kicked out of the bed at age 16, but now? They both need their sleep.

      He turns carefully, and studies Nezumi’s sleeping face. Nezumi’s eyes are shut a little tighter than normal, and his jaw is locked. He’s kicked off all the extra blankets they bought him last week when Shion finally resigned himself to the fact sleeping Nezumi was just not going to share. Shion runs his fingers over Nezumi’s cheek, over that clenched jaw. Nezumi’s whole body jerks away, and Shion’s heart squeezes.

      He wants to kiss him. Wants to assure him of his safety, and press him into his chest, shield him from every memory and falsehood that clenches at him in the night. He doesn’t. Shion has never been afraid of Nezumi, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of the danger of waking someone who’s had to defend themselves their entire life.

      He exhales. Inhales. Speaks in a gentle, assertive voice.

       “Nezumi, wake up.”

      Nezumi’s eyes open fast enough to break Shion’s heart. The remaining sheets fall into his lap as he bolts upright, revealing bare skin and a familiar set of bullet scars. Shion stays right where he is, cheek pressed into the pillow beside him. Nezumi, whose hand has already tangled in his dark hair, pulls once, twice, before his eyes shut and sinks back into the sheets with a grunt.

       “Nezumi can we—”

       “Yeah.”

      Shion’s on him in a heartbeat: peppering kisses down his chin, the gentlest kisses he can muster, as if he can press safety into Nezumi through his lips, through his skin.

      Nezumi’s legs rub against his but Shion doesn’t move away, opting to continue his kisses.

       “Shion,” he mumbles.

      “Nezumi,” Shion replies, not stopping his kisses for anything. Nezumi runs a hand through his hair, and Shion presses into it, assuring, loving.

       “Again?” he asks, disappointment evident.

      Shion nods.

       “I didn’t realize I was dreaming. I…” Nezumi exhales, wetting his lips. Shion runs his thumb over them, as Nezumi finds it in him to continue. He shakes his head, shutting his eyes tightly again. “Sorry. I—Shit.”

       “It’s okay,” Shion assures. “It’s okay Nezumi.”

      Nezumi’s jaw is still clenched, but he offers Shion something like a small nod. He presses his palms against his eyes.

       “Everything, all of it, is still behind my fucking eyelids.”

       “Nezumi…”

       “I just want to sleep.”

       “Then do it. I’ll hold you until you sleep, Nezumi.”

       “Shion...”

      Slowly, his hands move to rest open-palmed on Shion’s back. Shion leans in and kisses him, once, twice. On the third time, as their noses brush, Nezumi’s eyes open.

      Shion smiles, victorious. “There you are.”

      Nezumi exhales through his nose in an exhausted sort-of laugh. He kisses him then, warm and eager, elegant hands running up and down Shion’s back with practiced familiarity. Shion sleepily pushes against him, and Nezumi rolls so Shion’s draped over him properly. Shion breaks away just enough to run his thumb over Nezumi’s lips one more time. Nezumi looks at him and Shion feels a little like he’s been punched in the heart.

      He wraps his arms around him, and doesn’t budge for the rest of the night.

* * *

  

      Shion’s at the table again, only this time his eyes are open properly. A steaming cup of coffee rests in his hand. Nezumi glances toward the coffee maker—unplugged. That only leaves…

       “You used the French press?” Nezumi accuses. “Your sleepwalking is getting more advanced.”

       “I’m awake.”

       “Jury’s still out.” Nezumi replies, straightening out the coffee cup in Shion’s hand before espresso drips all over their worn table.

      Shion looks at his hand blankly. “Oh.”

       “Yeah. Oh.” Nezumi mimics. “Do you know what time it is?”

       “Late?”

       “Early actually. Around 4.”

      Something seems to pass across Shion’s face at that. His gaze drifts to the floor, and Nezumi can almost feel the tension between his shoulders as he sets the full cup down on the table. “I must have fallen asleep then. I thought I hadn’t. Did I wake you?”

       “It’s fine.” 

      Nezumi stands beside Shion and waits. Shion leans his way for a second but picks up the coffee and pours it down the sink instead. Nezumi vaguely registers that he’s still in his underwear but there’s nothing sexy about it. Shion just looks cold, scar exposed, leaning against the counter like he might fall over at any moment.

       “You can go back to bed, Nezumi,” he says.

      Nezumi promptly ignores him. “What’s on your mind, Shion?”

       “I can’t tell when I’m sleeping or not anymore. That’s new. This didn’t happen before.”

      Nezumi hesitates. Clears the space between table and sink.

      “You’re processing. Bodies remember the things your head tries to forget, and they come out at night.”

       “You’ve heard that?”

       “I’ve had it happen. Before I picked you up from the city, I’d wake up in various parts of the underground room, holding books or—” _Your shirt._ “—Things. Once I managed to light the stove. That was fun, waking up to a fire.”

      _It wasn’t the first time_. Nezumi shuts down the thought before he can voice it, but the way Shion’s eyebrows draw together show he’s already filled in something similar.

       “I had no idea.”

       “My point is, it’s an adjustment period.”

       “An adjustment period…” Shion repeats, dully.

      Nezumi wishes that he had more to offer him. He takes one of Shion’s hands, leaning close.

       “Shion.”

      He stays there until Shion meets his eyes. When he finally does, Nezumi releases his hand. He brushes Shion’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, wishing, not for the first time, he could be as fearless as Shion when it comes to things like this.

       “Can I kiss you?” Nezumi asks.

      Shion’s eyes shut and his head bobs in a jerky, quick nod. Nezumi kisses him then, cupping his face.

      He thinks about what Shion needs and tries to give him all of it: firm, warm, confident. He wraps an arm around his waist, and Shion wraps his arms around him in a hug, lips fitting against Nezumi’s in a way that only asks for Nezumi himself.

* * *

 

       “Nezumi, where are you going?”

       “Stop following me!”

       “I’m not going to do that.”

       “Go back to bed. It’s just a walk. I’m _fine_ so—”

       “A walk in the middle of the street, at night, after you just woke up from a— Forgive me for taking this in context Nezumi, but I don’t think you are fine!”

       “You walk around at night all the time!”

       “That’s different, I don’t plan on it. I’m sleeping!”

       “I don’t have time to argue with you right now Shion, I just have to—to—"

       “To what? Leave?”

      A flinch. Immediate regret.

       “No! That’s not. _Fuck_ that— that isn’t fair, Shion!”

       “I’m sorry—"

       “Forget it. Go away.”

       “Listen to— …I— _we_ need to calm down. Yelling won’t get us anywhere.”

      He’s shaking.

       “At least put on a coat, please. Nezumi. Come here.”

       “I said forget it Shion, you don’t have to—”

       “I’ll come to you then.”

      Buttoning. Adjusting.

       “There. You’ll be warm now. Next time, please grab a coat.”

       “Shion.”

       “I wish I could walk with you. That’s all I want.”

       “You have work tomorrow, and you need to sleep. You shouldn’t be out here right now, you should be warm in bed.”

       “You should be in bed with me.”

       “Give me an hour. I’ll come home.”

       “…Promise me.”

       “Come here, Shion.”

      Cold fingers. Warm lips.

       “I promise.”     

* * *

 

      Nezumi’s contemplating moving the bed to the kitchen.

       “Why Shion! No coffee? No French press?” A glance under the table reveals only blue plaid pajama pants. “You put on pants this time though. Suppose that took more effort than your complex caffeinated beverage preparation.”

      Shion grumbles, something that sounds suspiciously like _didn’t light the stove at least_ , and Nezumi feels the table shake from the force of Shion’s face hitting it.

       “Careful, that table was a precious gift from your mama, wouldn’t want to break it with your big brain.”

      Shion grunts.

       “Shion?” Nezumi raises his head from under the table, now a little concerned. Shion’s still facedown. “You awake?”

       “You’re making fun of me. Again.”

       “Never,” Nezumi smiles. He pulls his usual chair next to Shion, who turns his head just to scowl at him until he admits: “I haven’t seen Inukashi in a while, I need some sort of target, or I’ll lose my edge.”

       “You can admit you miss him.”

       “Why would I ever, Shion.”

      Shion elbows him lightly. Nezumi rubs his arm in mock offense, but stops when he sees Shion staring despondently at the corner of the table. He softens his voice.

       “Adjusting still?”  
       “I’m not sure what to, anymore.”

       “There’s always something. Committee being petty assholes? Red tape? Your bike has another flat? Maybe—”

       “—Somehow, Nezumi, you listing the things I’m stressed about is not making me less stressed—”

       “—It could be me.”

      Shion looks up, quiet and still. Nezumi rubs his neck, trying to keep the suggestion as casual as possible.

       “Look at the evidence, Shion Holmes. You didn’t used to sleepwalk until I wandered back into your bed with my own nightly adventures. Maybe I’m the adjustment your subconscious can’t seem to get enough of.”

       “That isn’t it.”

      Nezumi shrugged. “I could try sleeping on the couch—”

      Shion’s grip on his hand is just short of vice-like.

       “No,” he says. Hesitates, “Unless that’s your way of saying you’d rather not—”

       “It’s not.”

      Shion’s shoulders relax and his grip on Nezumi’s hand loosens. His head tilts down, gaze at that stupid corner again. Nezumi almost turns it to face him, but Shion needs time.

       “It’s not you. It’s me,” Shion mumbles, and before Nezumi can point out the irony of Shion accidentally using one of the most classic break-up lines in history to _stay_ with him, he speaks again. “I don’t know what I’m doing. There’s still so much, and… just…”

      Nezumi waits. He squeezes Shion’s hand.

       “I guess what I’m saying is sometimes,” Shion mumbles, finally facing Nezumi, eyes reflecting the light above the kitchen table. “Sometimes I wonder when _I’ll_ come home too.”

      Nezumi briefly wonders when Shion started taking the entire world on alone. He finds he knows the answer: _The day I left. No. Earlier than that. The day we met._

      Not anymore.

       “Lay down,” the words come easily, if abruptly. Nezumi stands, crossing to the couch. He waits for Shion to join him. _If_ Shion will join him.

      He does. Of course he does.

       “Rest your head in my lap. There, like that.”

      Shion’s hair is soft, and warm. The heat from Shion’s head presses into the tips of Nezumi’s fingers as he runs his fingers through it. He still needs a haircut. Nezumi wonders why he hasn’t brought it up yet. His nails lightly brush Shion’s scalp, massaging as gentle as he can, and judging by the sharp inhale and exhale of Shion’s breath Nezumi’s confident Shion is feeling good.

       “Now do me a favor, Shion.”

       “Anything.” Shion replies, and the fact Nezumi is 100% sure he means it makes it that much worse.

       “Sleep. Don’t think about work. Don’t think about me. Don’t think about you. Just lay, right here, and sleep.”

       “But—“

      Nezumi runs his nails along his scalp again. “Sleep.”

       “How can I not?”

       “What?”

       “Think about you,” Shion mumbles. “Right now, how can I not think about you?”

      Oh _wow_. Nezumi thinks. Isn’t that just the crux of this all? Isn’t _that_ the resulting discovery of 4 years of travel and lonely beds and meals for one.

      _How can I not think about you?_

       “Nezumi?” Shion asks.

      Nezumi brushes his fingers under Shion’s cheek and feels the raised scar there, traces it.

       “Start by thinking of where you want to be.”

      Shion snorts, and Nezumi offers him an offended look.

       “You’re not doing a very good job of getting me out of this moment, Nezumi.”

       “What?”

       “This is where I want to be,” Shion mumbles, turning his face in Nezumi’s leg so his cheek is resting on his thigh, nose against Nezumi’s stomach. “Right here. With you. Sleepless or nightmares, or not. That was never a question.”

       “And that’s not home?”

       “Oh,” Shion whispers. His fingers curl against Nezumi’s leg.

      Nezumi smiles.

       “Sleep, Shion. I’ll be here.”

       “When I wake up, too?”

       “When you wake up, too.”

      Shion smiles. Kisses Nezumi’s jeaned leg in a way that is so honestly so dumb and so Shion, Nezumi can’t help but kiss his forehead in return. Shion’s eyes slip shut.

       “Welcome home, Shion.”

* * *

  

       “Sometimes I want to tell you every thought in my head.”

       “Not at 3 am, not when we’ve finally both gotten to sleep, Shion.”

       “But you’re up too.”

      A thump. A sigh. Acceptance.

       “Go on then Shion. Unleash.”

       “Verbal communication just feels so inadequate sometimes—“

      Rustling.

       “Shit, Shion, please, please don’t sit up.”

       “Oh, sorry, I was just passionate.”

       “…Just passionate, huh.”

      More rustling. A smile hidden behind a “bored” hand.

       “Anyway, sometimes, like now, I wonder if humans are really meant to communicate that way. Verbally. Surely a language we made can’t possibly capture experiences we haven’t had, and the world is full of experiences we as a species haven’t had. I mean, just look at you, Nezumi.”

       “Why are we looking at me?”

       “You’re a different person from everyone else in the world.”

       “Astute observation.”

       “Shh, I’m almost there. I’m different too. I don’t have your experiences, or your motivations. I don’t know what goes on in your head, even though I desperately want to. Humans as a species…I wonder if we’re just flawed in that way. We can’t communicate by rubbing noses like dogs, we’re just so—”

       “That’s why we have kisses, Shion. When words fail.”

       “Oh.”

      A long silence.

       “Shion, did you fall asleep?”

       “What? No.”

       “Oh.”

      Silence.

       “Wait, seriously Shion? Did that actually solve the problem you were puzzling over?”

       “It did. You’re right. That’s why we have kisses. It’s so simple I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

       “Unbelievable.”

      A blush, barely there. Just on the tips of the ears.

       “You’re the one who suggested it.”

       “Suggestions don’t mean anything if they aren’t put into practice.”

       “Are you implying something there, Nezumi?”

      Searching, finding, holding.

       “Why nothing, at all, Shion.”

      Connecting.

       “I understand.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH arteriesandall and wickedlupin for your edits and motivation!!!! <3333


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